Obsession
by SnowglobeDragon
Summary: Someone has taken his obsession to a whole new level. Can you guess who it is before the end?
1. The Harry Look Alike

Dissclaimer-I don't own Harry potter.  
  
  
The pounding at the door came again. Why did they always bother him when he was busy? He turned back to the mirror carefully messing up his hair. Eyeing the red roots peeking through the black dye he decided he would have to redo it sometime soon. The knocking persisted accompanied be a voice, "Son? I need in there, I have to get ready for work."  
  
"Hold on I'm workin' on my contacts." Suiting action to word he picked up the container and unscrewed the top delicately pulling out first one then the other. Once they were in he went about carefully adjusting them.   
  
His dad must have given up and went to work as is because now the knocking was in stereo and there were two voices not one. "Open up! We left some stuff in there and we need it!" "If you don't come out we'll slip a dung bomb under the door and smoke you out!"  
  
The boy hopped down off the stool and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. A bulging sack in hand he marched over to the door and opened it just enough to toss the bag at the twins. "Uh, Thanks." And the last word came out one of the things in the back accidentally exploded but by then the bathroom door was closed and locked again.  
  
Back on his stool the boy twitched his baggy clothes into a satisfactory position and looked over himself. Yes he was ready to make his debut.  
  
In the kitchen A plump woman sat at the table with her daughter who had equally red hair as they finished breakfast. The rest of the large family had disappeared for the day each going his own way. At the noise of feet on the stairway the boys mother looked up and started a peevish speech, "Late for breakfast and locking the rest of us out of the bathroom well you can jus..." She stopped to look closely at her now green eyed son. The little girl who had noticed as soon as he entered sat staring bug-eyed at her brother with something close to amazement. "Dear don't you think you are going a little far with this... obsession?"  
  
The boy looked down at the over large robes and walked over to a mirror to look at his face. Black hair, green eyes, a lovely little lightening bolt scar drawn on with magic marker everything was in place. "No mum I think I got it just right this time."  
  
There in the Weasley's kitchen stood Ron Weasley, number one Harry Potter fan. 


	2. The Librarian Conspiracy

Everyone thinks me to be smart because of my addiction to the written word. In truth it is just a byproduct of spying on librarians. I'm not sure when I realized that they were up to something, but I imagine it was some time around second grade at a muggle school (that is when my grades got remarkably better.). One day I just realized there was something shady about a faction of women obsessed with the well fare of bits of paper. Soon I developed a habit of watching them as I read. And so I devoured literature on my quest to uncover the Librarian Conspiracy.  
  
Today found me as always in the library waiting for Madam Pince to slip up. Harry and Ron had given up on pulling me away from my look out and had gone off with Fred and George. I don't think even they, as my closest friends, realized the depth of my mission. Then again I don't believe they knew I'm not just reading books.  
  
It was getting late and the dim lamps were fast becoming the only source of light. The librarian Madam Pince had noticed me and was coming over with a sever look on her crafty face. Oh no she's caught on to me! Act normal, just act normal.  
  
"Miss Granger its closing time you need to leave." Her reprimanding tone said I should have remembered the rules.  
  
I sigh to myself. Luck is still with me this could work to my advantage. My hand traced the outer edge on the cover of 'Magical Mishaps That Could Happen to You'. "Oh, but I so wanted to read this book and I have already checked out the limit. Could you put it aside for me?" I put on my best desperate bookworm face as I pleaded.  
  
Madam Pince took the book from my hands and walked off toward her desk. I followed closely hoping for a view of what was behind the desk.  
  
"What are you doing Miss Granger?" You are supposed to be heading out the door." The librarian had turned to confront me.  
  
"Er, I wanted to see where you put the book so I can find it when I come back." Smooth lie, I think she took it.  
  
"You know all reserved volumes are kept at my desk. Now go back to your commons room." Seems I set my hopes to high. Under her stern glare I could do but one thing. I turned and left. Foiled again. Maybe I could borrow Harry's invisibility cloak sometime.  
  
  
SD- couldn't resist messing around in another characters head and blowing what I found there out of proportion. 


	3. Firebolt!

Harry sat with two other contestants facing the host across a blaring field of lights. The man holding the que cards stood before a wall full of panels labeled with numbers. His hand came up to reveal a magical microphone, which he preceded to talk into.  
  
"Harry it is your turn to pick the category." He said in a very announcerish voice.  
  
The boy-who-lived studied the choices nervously before opening his mouth. " Magical games for 200." He didn't sound very sure of himself.  
  
Host turned to the panel and read off it, "Fastest broom as of last year."  
  
Harry was visibly sweating as he made his reply "What is Firebolt?"  
  
"Is that your final answer?" the man watched him the boy nodded. "You are... correct."  
  
The game went on and Harry soon sounded like a broken record as he left the other entrants in the dust with his answers. "Firebolt!" "Firebolt!" "Firebolt!" They had reached the end of the game and he had won, no surprises there, when he woke up.  
  
He sat up in bed throwing off his firebolt red bed sheets so he could drop his feet to the floor. Ron was still asleep and he wanted to tell him about the dream, but now that he tried to remember it all he got was a sense of it being about something he loved. It was at the end of his thought process that he realized he had just enough time to get ready and polish his broomstick before classes.  
  
On his rush to the bathrooms he passed Hermione who was on her way to start the day off in the library. Why she did that when she could spend the morning discussing quidditch he didn't know, but it was her loss not his.  
  
In Divination later that day he looked out the window striving to make out the first year flying class on the ground below. The sight of the brooms whizzing slowly through the air carrying the beginning flyers made him drift off into a daydream.  
  
He was sitting listening to Professor Trelawney predict his death for the sixth time that class when he saw that the window was open and it was a large window. Without much more thought he grabbed his wand and pointed it out the window causing the kids sitting between him and his target to duck. "Accio Firebolt!" he yelled then sat squirming on the seat waiting for it to show up.  
  
With a whiz and a smack it was though the window and in his hand. Using the practiced ease of a seeker he hopped on a zoomed out the window to applause from the students who like him were not overly fond of the class. As he disappeared toward the quidditch pitch. The professor leaned out the still open window to yell after him, "My inner eye foresaw this happening!"  
  
Ron roused him from the happy vision in time for them to exit the class this time through the trap door instead.  
  
In Snape's class he earned a detention for pulling a face at Malfoy and supposedly causing his to knock his cauldron over in fright. Once again as he sat there a vision came to him, Professor Trelawney would be so proud of him.  
  
Snape was sitting at his desk writing out detention slips a happy, or as close as he could get to it, look on his face. The quill snailed across the paper forming each word to perfection. It was obvious that he liked this part of his job. An ominous hum started up somewhere outside the room and grew steadily louder.   
  
In a rush Snape was knocked out of his chair by a rouge bludger and by the looks of it a beautiful sunset would grace his face in moments. The angelic savior of a bludger had made a circle of the room and started back for the desk where it continued to beat up everyone's favorite professor.   
  
The class left on the heels of one Severous Snape who was making a dash for the infirmary and sanctuary from the following bludger. The detention slips laying the ruins of the smashed desk covered in spilled ink and illegible.  
  
Harry sighed as he left the potions classroom with the detention slip in hand. To bad only his visions about Voldemort came true. If only quidditch could solve everything... maybe it could?   
  
  
  
SD-I might do more if I think of them. 


	4. Socks

Dumbledor woke promptly at seven, lifting his head off the pillowcase made of old socks. His white hair stood out at odd angles, from the static, making him like a ball of wool fluff, and for the better part of an hour it resisted all attempts to tame it.   
  
After a quick search of the sock drawer he pulled out his favorite pair of knees highs. He shuffled over to the bed to sit down chuckling gleefully all the way. The instant the wool touched his skin his eyes gained their trademark twinkle that did wonders to lighten his wrinkled face.   
  
At breakfast he sat having a serious discussion with Professor Snape about students minds wandering during his classes. During the middle of his rant the pale faced professor scowled as headmaster broke into a smile brought on by wiggling his toes in his ultra comfy footwear.   
  
Later that day he lounged behind his desk comparing a picture of knit socks to his failed attempts. Not that he didn't like the pup-tent effect but it just wasn't practical. After all how would he fit his foot in a shoe with one on? Perhaps Hagrid would like them as a gift?   
  
He leaned over to fish around in a basket by his desk coming up with a ball of yarn and his needle. The blunted point glinted ominously as the old wizard took out his wand to use as the other needle. Many hours and several miles of yarn later Mcgonagall opened the door to the head masters office and much to her annoyance was forced to wade through a sea of mismatched sock. There were toe-socks, ankle highs, those with heels and those without, every color, hue and size. Once at the desk she called out.   
  
"Sir?" When she got no answer she tried again. "Dumbledor are you in here?"   
  
She watched with a bemused look on he face as a sock only a house elf would wear answered her. "Oh yes. Dear me. Am I late for dinner again?"   
  
"Yes. Haven't we had several talks about this?"   
  
Dumbledor opted to be evasive "Have we?"   
  
"Last week you promised not to indulge yourself until after school hours." She leaned forward to pull the florid sock off revealing a rather prominent nose.   
  
"I did say that didn't I?" The nose sighed.   
  
Mcgonagall nodded though she knew he couldn't see it. "I'll forgive you this time if you come down to dinner now and clean up this room when that's done."   
  
Dumbledor rose up carefully removing the socks from his robes. He gave them a fond pat as he followed the stiff-backed woman down to the dinner hall.   
  
All through dinner the two watched each other. Mcgonagall because she didn't trust the aging headmaster not to pull something, and Dumbledor because thanks to static cling his colleague was wearing his favorite pink and orange sock on her back.   
  
  
SD-Thanks to all the reviewers 


	5. A Spoon Full of Veritaserm

"Oh a spoon full of veritaserm makes the tru-ooth come out makes the tru-ooth come out makes the..." one Severous Snape sang gleefully in an off-key voice.   
  
To him it didn't matter that the words made little sense or that if any of the students caught sight of him a new fear would be instilled in their hearts. No the greasy haired professor was prancing around his room like he had broke into the holiday moonshine early.  
  
His fingers curled around a smooth object in his hands as his waltz came to a halt so he could look suspiciously over his shoulder.  
  
"Yes my sweet you are safe with me", Snape cooed licking his chops.  
  
Chapped lips worked their way toward the mouth of the vile, and a spidery hand crawled up as if to pull the cork. A thin bead of drool had started down the weathered chin racing slowly to the floor. The tongue poked out of his mouth in anticipation of what it would soon be tasting.  
  
"NO!" Snape dramatically flung his arms as far from him as they could get while both hands kept their death grip on the bottle. "You know how you get when you drink", he reprimanded in his stern professor voice. "Oh but just a sip couldn't hurt. It will help you sleep. What could one shot do? And such a fine vintage, 1943 I believe..." The potions master's face looked pained "I really shouldn't though, but I have already had some what could a little more do?"  
  
With that said he popped the cork out and chugged the entire contents down and threw away the glass, which much to his consternation did not break. He shrugged it off with a congratulatory giggle as his knees turned to jelly and he toppled face first onto one of the lab tables.   
  
*****  
  
When his eyes finally opened he wished he had left them closed. What was Potter doing running around his dungeon babbling on about the vengeance of the firebolts? He always knew that kid had a screw loose.  
  
Snape groaned pushing himself up off the table. It was then that another Harry Potter slunk into the room. The older mans hands flew to his head to check his temperature. When even shaking his head would not remove the double eye sore he resorted to what he did best."  
"Potter and...Potter out of my class now and twenty points from Gryfinndor"  
  
*****  
  
At dinner Things were no better Mcgonagal and Dumbledor were having a staring contest and the poor daft woman didn't seem to realize her new sock was the topic of a heated debate among several of the other professors.  
  
Not hungry Snape took the opportunity to survey the Slytherin table. The sight of Crabbe and Goyle stuffing themselves like thanksgiving turkeys made him wince in disgust. Malfoy as per normal had taken time to stroll over and insult Potter and Co. Amusing, as it was the boy needed to learn some new insults. Zabini the boy, or was it girl, who couldn't decide it's own gender. Last and least was Pansy. The girl would hit on anything with a flat chest and two legs. She had even tried pulling her charms on the potions master. He decided then that all he really wanted was to ram his head repeatedly into his plate, but the food loaded on it would have cushioned the impact.  
  
If things were bad they were soon to get worse. Outside the hall he was accosted by James Potter who latched onto him giving the repulsed man a bear hug. Wasn't Potter dead? Before he could escape Lupin wearing a dog-eared headband and Black in a pastel bunny suit joined Potter in squeezing the life from poor old Snape.  
  
Severous did the only thing he could think of. He screamed. Not the he normal mad yell but a high pitched shriek.  
  
"Professor wake up."  
  
Severous continued to cry pitifully.  
  
"Oh for the love of Merlin! Professor shut up and get up!"  
  
Snape woke to a stinging cheek and the ceiling of the hospital wing. Madam Pomphrey leaned over him her hand still raised lips pursed.  
  
"Been into the veritaserm again have we." Her already thin lips disappeared in wrinkles.  
  
Even though it wasn't a question the potions master still answered under the influence and completely honest "Yes."  
  
*****  
  
Thank Merlin the old prune had finally released him after several doses of her foulest concoction.  
  
Turning the corner into his class he breathed deep in relief over joyed to know that twin potters only occurred in his nightmares. Maybe a little veritaserm to calm those nerves?  
*****  
  
SD- Apologies if this offended Snape lovers I really don't have anything against him. No flames please (you might start a forest fire ^.^). Next character on my list is... a mystery though I'm considering Blaise or Hagrid. 


End file.
